


The Good Guys

by rhincoln



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M, Partners to Lovers, Public Blow Jobs, Stakeout, rhink, roachborne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhincoln/pseuds/rhincoln
Summary: Seaborne and Roach have been on a stakeout for a few hours when Roach starts getting a bit… restless.— set a few days after the events of ep. 6 of Seaborne & Roach.





	

**Author's Note:**

> posting this little thing that i wrote in advance for a time like this when i’d be too busy with uni to write anything in the forthcoming few days. sorry about that, hope you enjoy this!

“Man, I feel so bad about Fluffy,” Roach said suddenly, distracting Seaborne from his attempt to focus his eyes on the inside  _ sides _ of the binoculars. Like, the darkness around the picture he could see through them. Cause the picture wasn’t moving, and hadn’t done in a while. The last time something happened in the flowerbed he was keeping close watch over was that morning, when a gust of wind bent some of the flowers a little.    
  
“The cat?” Seaborne asked, scrunching his face up a little but not moving his eyes away from the binoculars for a second, lest the deer (or other) that they were after showed up and tried to munch on those poor flowers again.

 

“Yeah, the cat,” Roach said huffily, as if Seaborne was the biggest idiot to ask.    
  
“That was like three days ago,” Seaborne, referring to its death, justified having asked the question.   
  
“So?” Roach asked, sounding indignant. The long stake-out was visibly and audibly taking a toll on him. “We’re still on the same dang case we were on when it died. At the rate it’s going, I’ll probably be dead before the end of it too.”   
  
Seaborne rolled his eyes behind the binoculars, clicking his tongue before muttering, “Maybe it’d have been better if you had died.”   
  
There was silence on Roach’s end, then, and Seaborne almost smirked in delight at the realisation that he’d finally gotten him to shut up.    
  
“You don’t mean that,” Roach muttered, and Seaborne turned his head for one third of a second to smile at him.   
  
“No,” Seaborne said.   
  
“Hm.”   
  
Seaborne turned his head a little, surveying the area to make up for the amount of time he’d lost on pacifying Roach. It was himself who’d insisted that they park a bit further down the street, where the culprit could not see their red  _ El Camino _ when it inevitably showed up. Roach had, conversely, tried to convince him that they should park as close to the lady’s garden as they could, because animals such as deer were attracted to the colour red.  _ It’s not deer, _ Seaborne had scoffed at him,  _ it’s bulls. And they’re not attracted to red, just easily taunted by it, or somethin’. _ Seaborne didn’t really know himself, but he knew that Roach was  _ wronger _ than he was.    
  
_ Well,  _ Roach had scoffed right back,  _ we don’t know that it’s a deer. Could be anything for all we know. _ __  
  
_ Like a bull? Here? _ Seaborne had asked, scrunching his face up in incredulity.   
  
_ Could happen, _ Roach had muttered, and turned his face away.   
  
Seaborne had felt bad, though the things Roach sometimes said were just plain ridiculous, and he couldn’t stand for it.  _ Well, _ Seaborne said half-apologetically,  _ if there were a bull, we wouldn’t want him to get too excited by the colour of our car and try to pummel us to death, right? _ __  
  
Roach had reluctantly agreed, and so Seaborne parked a little ways down the road.    
  
Due to that, Seaborne had to get his binoculars out, to better see the area they were to keep watch over. Roach disagreed, again, saying that Seaborne could easily see the garden without binoculars, but Seaborne persisted.   
  
“A-ha!” Roach said now, and Seaborne could hear the gears slowly turning in his head. “I knew it. See how I knew that you didn’t mean that just now?”   
  
“... Yeah?”   
  
Seaborne could hear the smirk in Roach’s voice. “Told ya I could tell when someone was lyin’.”   
  
Seaborne sighed. “Gosh, not that crap again.”

 

“C’mon,” Roach said petulantly, “Just say somethin’ again. Try me. You’ll see.”   
  
“Alright, alright,” Seaborne said, shifting toward the window so he could rest the hand that held his binoculars up against the car door.    
  
…   
  
“So?” Roach asked.   
  
“I’m thinkin’!” Seaborne said, narrowing his eyes. “Okay…” he said to fill the silence as he racked his brain for something to say.    
  
“Just say anything that pops into your head,” Roach said impatiently.   
  
That was dangerous. The things Roach lately found himself thinking about while alone with Roach were… Well, unprofessional to say at the least.   
  
“This is stupid,” Seaborne said.   
  
“Not true,” Roach said, and just as Seaborne was getting ready for another argument, Roach added, “I mean, that’s not what you really think.”

Seaborne bit the inside of his cheek. And alright, as much as he fought it because he thought he had to, he actually appreciated the games and conversation topics Roach made up to fill their time. But Seaborne never really felt right participating. Just because their cases were silly didn’t mean that the two of them had to act silly. They were real investigators, or he would have liked them to be as close to ones as they could.   
  
“You’re right,” Seaborne said, giving in with the smallest smile.    
  
He could hear Roach smirking. “Knew it. Go on.”   
  
Seaborne thought hard about this one, but he didn’t think long. What could he lose by saying it?    
  
“I’m tired, and I’m tense,” Seaborne said, hoping Roach would recognise it as a very human thing to be and not get all uppity with how Seaborne tried to hide that he felt like this, and always scolded Roach for complaining.    
  
Seaborne was not as lucky.   
  
“Me too, man,” Roach said, completely forgetting to say if he inferred that it was the truth or not in favour of giving Seaborne a piece of his mind. “I can see on you. Been tellin’ ya for ages that we should just take it a little easier. I haven’t had time for Gina in a while, if you know what I mean…”   
  
“Oh really?” Seaborne asked, now getting a little flustered, a little angry. “Well, you know what?” he asked, thinking he’d give Roach something to think about, to deduce whether it was true or not. “I never liked  _ Gina.” _   
  
Seaborne could feel Roach looking at him.    
  
“Truth...” Roach said slowly, like he’d was surprised it took him that long to realise Seaborne felt that way about her.   
  
“No,” Seaborne scrambled to say, “I lied. She’s… just fine. See, you can’t—”   
  
“Sea…” Roach said gently. Seaborne never really approved of that nickname and Roach, to humour him, didn’t use it almost at all since he came up with it. It was one late night when they were trying to catch some kids who were tagging the sides of a battered house downtown that Roach came up with it. It was just something he’d shouted out in the heat of the moment. Later, back in the car, Roach was tired and he must have been loopy when he said that the nickname fit Seaborne  _ because his eyes kinda look like the sea.  _ Though they didn’t catch the kids, Seaborne always secretly thought the night to have been a success. He vowed to never allow things like that to get mixed up with their professional life again.    
  
“Just…” Seaborne said, trying real hard to keep looking through his binoculars. “Leave it.”   
  
Roach did, for about twenty seconds.   
  
“So,” Roach started again, almost making Seaborne whine in irritation. “You said you were tense.”   
  
“If you want to gloat,” Seaborne said sourly, “Do it at a moderate volume…”   
  
Roach chuckled.  _ “Moderate volume. _ Alright. Except I was only gonna ask if you thought there was a way for you to get rid of that tension.”

 

Seaborne gulped. “No,” he said, exactly because he knew of a solution (however impossible it was) and the root cause of the problem itself. The cause of the problem was how good Roach looked in those v-necks he had a penchant for wearing under his jacket. How nicely his chin-strap framed his face, how handsome he looked in his glasses, how cute the beauty mark above his lip was.    
The problem would have been easy enough to solve, in another universe. In a universe where, when they came back from a case, Seaborne could drive somewhere where they could be alone. Exhilarated by having solved the case or not, they could get to talking, to touching. Seaborne could push Roach up against the car door and kiss the life out of him.    
And after a while, the perfect solution to Seaborne’s tension would present itself: when they were alone after a case or bored by long stakeouts, Seaborne could climb onto Roach’s lap right there in the car, unbutton his pants, slick his dick up and have Roach fuck him, long and hard, sometimes in broad daylight.   
  
But in this universe, all Seaborne could do was suffer until he could no longer take it and just find himself a girl like Gina or something. Because lately, in this universe, he’d been too afraid to jack off, because as soon as he touched himself, all he could think of was Roach, Roach, Roach. And his imagination worked in his favour in that respect. Seaborne could bet all he had that Roach had a nice, big dick.    
  
Investigator’s intuition, or something.

 

And Roach wasn’t about to let this go.    
  
“You’re lying,” Roach said, sounding amused by it. “You  _ do _ know how to get rid of the tension. For some reason, you just don’t wanna tell.”   
  
Seaborne closed his eyes, wishing that the earth would swallow him whole. Did Roach even hear what he was saying? Roach didn’t even need to say ‘sexual tension’ for what he was saying to sound sexual.    
Or maybe it was just Seaborne’s corrupt mind that perceived it that way. 

 

“Not true,” Seaborne said, trying to dial it all back to Roach’s stupid latest game.   
  
“True,” Roach countered. “Well,” Roach said, and Seaborne could hear that he was trying too hard to make it sound like a casual quip. “I know what I like to do when I’m feelin’ tense.”    
  
Seaborne wasn’t going to let Roach embarrass him further by distracting him like this.    
  
“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” Seaborne bit back, narrowing his eyes. “Push-ups?”    
He kept looking through his binoculars, both as a way to convince himself he was still working hard and as a way to not let Roach read every single one of his emotions on his face, if Roach could actually do that. Looking at him just wasn’t worth the risk, in any case.    
  
“You think I do push-ups?” Roach asked, and Seaborne snapped his mouth shut.   
  
When Seaborne didn’t reply, Roach unstuck his butt from the car seat. Their  _ stupid ‘71 Chevy El Camino SS _ which Seaborne was certain was the best car ever, but now cursed in his mind for having no console in between them, allowed Roach to plop his butt back down right next to Seaborne. 

  
“You do,” Roach said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “You think I work out?”

 

Seaborne shut his eyes behind the binoculars.   
  
“You think I look good?” Roach asked, his voice low.   
  
Seaborne kept quiet for a moment before deciding it’d be more suspicious if he didn’t say anything. “I think you look… Okay.”   
  
“Just okay?”   
  
“Mhm,” Seaborne barely forced out.   
  
“I can read ya, Sea,” Roach said quietly, so close that Seaborne could faintly feel Roach’s breath on his face.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Seaborne said, now getting really nervous.   
  
“You don’t like it?”    
  
“No, it’s—” Seaborne said, but knew he’d said too much. “We’re supposed to be workin’.”   
  
“How am I gonna work if my partner is tense?” Roach asked, voice almost down to a whisper, making Seaborne shiver.

 

“Roach—” Seaborne tried to warn him, but his breath caught in his throat when Roach put his hand on Seaborne’s thigh.   
  
Taking his time, Roach ran his palm down between his thighs, brushing his fingers against the seam of Seaborne’s jeans.   
  
“Roach,” Seaborne said, a little desperate. It was very clear to him, what Roach was doing, even more so when Roach pressed his lips to a spot high on Seaborne’s neck. 

  
“Lemme help you out,” Roach said gently, his breath tickling Seaborne’s ear.   
  
Seaborne dropped his binoculars down to his nose, closing his eyes and inhaling a sharp breath when he felt Roach kissing up his neck to his jaw.    
  
Just as Seaborne was about to turn his head to face him and figure out if what he thought was going on was really going on and  _ how, _ Roach spoke.

  
“Eyes on the crime scene,” Roach instructed, and Seaborne took in a shaky breath, but obeyed. He returned his gaze back to the garden, thinking that if Roach went on touching him like this, there’d soon be a crime scene in his pants.    
  
Seaborne let himself enjoy a few kisses, let Roach slowly work his jacket open, before he made a weak protest. “No, Roach,” Seaborne mumbled, shaking his head a little, feeling delirious. “We need to work.”   
  
“Fuck work,” Roach said, mouthing at his neck, one of his hands now working on undoing Seaborne’s belt.    
  
They really shouldn’t be doing this, Seaborne thought.   
  
“What about Gina?” he breathed, and Roach huffed out a laugh.   
  
“I’ll break up with her,” Roach said easily.   
  
“What?”    
  
“I never liked her,” Roach said, parroting Seaborne from earlier. “Not as much as I like you.”   
  
Seaborne leaned back, parting his lips in a gasp and giving himself over to Roach. There was no way he wasn’t going to give into Roach and his curious hand, as it hastily pulled Seaborne’s neatly tucked shirt out of his jeans. 

 

“What about you?” Roach asked in a low voice, running his hand up and then down Seaborne’s front, over his tie and the buttons of his shirt all the way down to the now obvious bulge at the front of his jeans.   
  
“What about me?” Seaborne got out, around an embarrassingly needy moan.   
  
“D’you like me?” Roach asked, twisting the button on Seaborne’s jeans to get them open before he stuck his hand down them.   
  
“Whaddaya think?” Seaborne asked right back, unable to be at least a little bit argumentative, even when Roach had his hand down the front of his jeans. With a short nod down, Seaborne hoped he could convey to Roach that Roach literally held the answer to that question in his hand.

“I’d say your dick likes me,” Roach teased, squeezing it through the fabric of Seaborne’s briefs a little as he worked his hand up and down agonizingly slowly. 

 

“Roach,” Seaborne breathed, exasperated. Thinking it’d be too lame to just say it because it was obvious that he more than liked Roach, Seaborne took his eyes off the crime scene to look at Roach for only a second before he smushed their faces together in a desperate kiss.    
  
He pulled off almost immediately, leaving Roach to chase after his lips and crowd him further against the car door.    
  
“That answer your question?” Seaborne asked, panting, his gaze flicking down to Roach’s lips.   
  
Roach didn’t answer, just looked at Seaborne with a look in his eyes that was hungry, but also like Roach was hungry for something that he had just discovered he liked. Roach dove in for another kiss, pulling his hand out of Seaborne’s pants to hold him by the waist. The touch tickled in the best way, giving Seaborne that feeling like his stomach dissipated into thin air for a moment.   
  
Roach kissed him, first with short but hard kisses which Seaborne lovingly reciprocated, yearning for closeness as much as Roach did. When Roach opened his mouth, Seaborne’s lips parted as well, letting their kisses turn into something more urgent, and therefore quite sloppy. When Seaborne slowed Roach down a little to kiss him with a more intentional sort of passion, Roach laughed.   
  
“What?” Seaborne asked, smiling because the laugh didn’t sound malicious. 

 

“Your mustache, man,” Roach said, shaking his head a little but still insisting on getting to kiss Seaborne through it, even by peppering short kisses all around his lips.   
  
“Oh, sorry,” Seaborne said, bringing his hand up to touch his moustache. When he realised how close the motion brought his hand to Roach, he switched his hand over to Roach’s face. Feeling the short bristles of his chin-strap, Seaborne almost hummed in happiness.   
  
“No, no,” Roach said, “I like it. Just need to get used to it.”   
  
In answer to that, Seaborne smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. Seaborne felt Roach move as close as he physically could and press himself right up against Seaborne as he deepened the kiss. Roach slowly brought his hand back into Seaborne’s jeans, and then slipped his fingers under the waistband of his briefs. He felt around minutely and wrapped his hand around Seaborne’s dick, tugging on it a little once he had it in his hand.   
  
“Oh, Gosh,” Seaborne mumbled against Roach’s lips, lifing his butt off the seat so he could shimmy his pants down just to under his balls, so Roach could pull his dick out. Roach did, holding it in his coarse but gentle hand which he languidly moved up and down.

  
“Beautiful,” Roach mumbled, pleased. Seaborne’s eyes almost rolled into the back of his head just at the sound of that.   
  
“Ah, fuck—” Seaborne breathed, tilting his head away from Roach to look down at himself. The sight of himself completely dressed — however dishevelled — with just his dick, the tip of it leaking, out in Roach’s hand, was almost enough to tip Seaborne over the edge.   
  
Like he knew, Roach nipped at Seaborne’s neck before telling him to, “Keep your eyes up. Supposed to be working.”

 

Seaborne nodded and exhaled shakily. It was ridiculous that he listened to Roach when Roach ordered him things like this, but he felt that there was nothing else to do but to look up through the windshield, with what Roach was doing to him. When bringing Seaborne off, Roach was eager, yet unbelievably gentle and tantalizing.    
  
Roach nosed at his neck and planted a few kisses there before moving down, nuzzling at his jaw and kissing his adam’s apple before he looked up at Seaborne with a smirk and dipped down.    
  
Seaborne gasped when he felt Roach’s lips on the head of his dick, warm and soft. Unable to help himself, Seaborne looked down, and didn’t even have any time to be surprised before Roach took the head of his dick into his mouth. 

 

Seaborne brought his hand down to Roach’s head and tangled it in his hair, petting it tenderly as Roach undid him with his mouth. Roach’s lips and tongue provided a wonderful, warm pressure, slicking Seaborne up before Roach bobbed his head further down and took as much of Seaborne’s dick in his mouth as he could.   
  
Trying his hardest not to buck up into Roach’s mouth, Seaborne writhed under him, quivering like a leaf in the wind. Losing himself in the feeling, he tugged at Roach’s hair, and was about to caress the spot he’d pulled at by way of apologising when he heard Roach moan around his dick; so Seaborne tugged at his hair again, a little harder. Roach hummed in pleasure, and Seaborne had to look down at him again when Roach pulled off with a pop and tilted his head so that he could lick up the side of Seaborne’s dick.    
  
“That feel good to you?” Roach asked, flicking his gaze up and catching Seaborne looking. Seaborne’s dick twitched at the sight of Roach — a strand of his hair falling over his forehead, his glasses halfway down his nose, his lips reddened and spit-slicked. 

 

All Seaborne could do was nod and let out a broken-off moan. Roach smirked and slowly brought his mouth back to the head of Seaborne’s dick. He took it into his mouth, pushing the head of it against the inside of his cheek before pulling off again. When Roach pressed his tongue flat against it so that he could slide it up his mouth more easily, Seaborne leaned back, closing his eyes as he groaned. Biting his bottom lip to try to keep quiet and opening his eyes so that he could see if anyone approached the car, Seaborne tried to get himself in check, but was steadily failing as Roach sucked him off so sloppily and eagerly that Seaborne felt like he’d fall apart.

 

Seaborne knew that any possible passers-by couldn’t see exactly what was going on because the sight of Roach was obscured by the car door, but he knew that they would probably be able to figure it out if they took a longer look at Seaborne, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he failed to suppress his moans, his hand moving up and down with Roach’s head. Even if anyone seeing them maybe should have made him worry, it didn’t really worry him terribly, only made his heart beat faster. 

 

Seaborne was incoherent, like babbling in a foreign tongue whose entire dictionary he could make up with just three words — ‘shit’, ‘fuck’, and ‘ _ Roach’. _ __  
He ran his fingers through Roach’s hair, his blunt fingernails scratching at his scalp as Roach took him almost all the way in.    
Roach pulled back after a gag, but immediately took him back into his mouth, using his hand to work on the part of his dick he couldn’t fit in his mouth.    
  
“Fuck, Roach—” Seaborne was gonna warn him to pull off, even tugging at his hair a bit harder, but Roach just went on, moving faster, sucking him off until Seaborne came right into his mouth.    
  
Roach pulled off a little, then, letting some of Seaborne’s spunk end up on his lips and catch onto his beard. Roach lapped at Seaborne’s dick even after it had spilled all it had, kissing it as it softened in his hand. Once he was satisfied, Roach pulled himself up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.    
  
Seaborne didn’t wait for him to even straighten up completely before he grabbed his face with both his hands and clashed their lips together in an urgent kiss. Roach responded smoothly, kissing Seaborne passionately yet with such an amount of  _ cool _ that Seaborne’s dick already twitched in response. Roach wrapped his arms around Seaborne’s middle and pulled him halfway up into his lap, and Seaborne let himself be held, kissing Roach reverently.    
  
Roach pulled away a little to look at Seaborne, and Seaborne knew he looked at him like a lovestruck fool, but he couldn’t have cared less. With Roach holding him so adoringly, Seaborne felt small, and unlike usually when he was trying to prove himself to Roach, he didn’t have a problem with admitting that he enjoyed the feeling of Roach protecting him.   
  
Seaborne sighed as Roach pressed a kiss to his cheek.   
  
“For the record, I think you look  __ really good,” Seaborne said.   
  
“Oh?”

 

“And you’re a great private investigator,” Seaborne mumbled, letting himself be gooey. All of his pretense of being the toughest guy around had pretty much flown out the window, anyway.

 

Roach laughed. “Well, you too.”

  
Seaborne shook his head, grinning. “Not really. Took my eyes off the crime scene,” he said.    
  
Roach looked at him like he was crazy. “Yeah, you’re basically one of the bad guys now.”   
  
Seaborne giggled. “Mhm,” he leaned in, pressing a long kiss to the side of Roach’s neck.    
  
Roach tilted his head and craned his neck a little, letting out the softest sound, which, paired with an unmistakeable hardness that was digging into Seaborne’s buttcheek, served to make Seaborne quite excited.   
  


“Oh, speaking of — look,” Roach said lazily, voice nonchalant. “There’s our perp.”   
  
Seaborne scrambled to follow his gaze, and found that Roach had been completely right — even without his binoculars, Seaborne could perfectly see the deer as it stood in the middle of the garden and casually ate away at the flower beds.    
  
“Get your camera,” Seaborne said quickly, sliding off Roach’s lap and back into his seat, using his hands to pull his pants up and button them, hastily shoving his white button-up back into his jeans. He gave up on doing up his belt for now.    
  
By the time he was done, Roach had snapped a few shots of the deer.    
  
“Alright,” Seaborne said, back to business in a second. “Call animal services,” he told Roach as he strapped in, putting one hand on the backrest of the seat, turning to look back as he started to pull out of the street, having no desire to drive past the deer and startle it.   
  
It was Roach he startled. “Wait, where are we going?” Roach asked when Seaborne turned left and started to navigate his way through the suburbs. Still, Roach only took a little time pushing his glasses up before he took his phone out.   
  
“I’m takin’ you behind that rundown house from that case we had a few weeks ago,” Seaborne said.   
  
Roach flipped his phone open and asked, “Why?” as he punched the number in.   
  
“So I can tag your name onto the house with some of the spray paint we confiscated from those kids,” Seaborne said, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes.   
  
Roach didn’t pick up on the sarcasm. “Really?” He sounded almost touched, and Seaborne thought that wasn’t such a bad idea. Though he might write something a bit more creative, like  _ Sea loves Roach. _ __  
__  
“Really,” Seaborne said, shooting a quick smile at Roach.   
And suddenly, maybe because he’d recently gotten rid of a lot of tension, Seaborne didn’t feel indignant when speaking the obvious: “And then we’re gonna fuck.”


End file.
